


Enstone Christmas

by josafiend



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Alpha Males, Christmas, Christmas Party, Enstone, Formula One, Kimando, Lotus F1 Team, M/M, One True Pairing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-21
Updated: 2013-12-21
Packaged: 2018-01-05 08:27:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1091756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/josafiend/pseuds/josafiend
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What would Christmas be without the office party? The Lotus F1 Team are no different to every other company, they need to let their hair down, drain the bar and dance the night away. What could possibly go wrong?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Enstone Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> In regards to the pairings:  
> Heikki Kovalainen/Jerome D'Ambrosio (brief)  
> Eric Boullier/Romain Grosjean (implied/overheard)

The Enstone Christmas party was usually held in a dingy local hotel, where Lotus employees would rub shoulders with party-goers from other companies in a drab, depressing affair, which reminded them all of one thing; Lotus could do better.

2012 was different, with Kimi signing and the resulting sponsorship explosion, things had looked up. Then the win at Abu Dhabi came and Kimi’s subsequent third place in the Championship. The tables had turned and to congratulate the team, its owners had hired out an exclusive venue and agreed a reasonable price for a slap up meal with all the festive trimmings, and a ‘within reason’ free bar.

What could possibly go wrong?

Kimi Raikkonen’s foot tapped impatiently outside his bathroom door. He’d knocked twice now to inform Heikki that the car was outside to pick them up, but his fellow Finn had apparently chosen to barricade himself inside. It had been Kimi’s idea to invite Heikki, in a rarely seen gesture of friendship; since Heikki seemed to be spiralling into depression upon learning he wouldn’t be getting a racing seat for 2013 unless he paid for it. Kimi was of an identical opinion to the whole sorry situation, if you wanted in you earned it with talent, not the size of your wallet.

He beat his fist once more on the door, ready to kick it off its hinges if Heikki hadn’t pulled himself together in the next ten seconds. He’d counted as far as seven when the lock clicked and a suited, booted blonde came into view looking nervous and apologetic.

‘The car’s here.’ Kimi muttered, turning out the lights and shepherding Heikki out of the front door.

Soon they were watching Oxford fly by as they passed through built up areas and then into the countryside. Both drivers gazed out at the fields and hedges through the tinted glass, Kimi thinking how England could do with some snow this time of year. It really was the brownest, dampest place on the planet. The driver slowed, pulling onto a private road which rose over a hill; at the crest they could see a large country house in the twilight, festively decorated by red and green floodlights, which would be their location for the rest of the evening. Both Kimi and Heikki had packed overnight bags and would be staying in the house’s luxurious bedrooms, Kimi wondered if there’d be four poster beds like he’d seen on the television.

The pulled up at the end of a red carpet and a doorman in a penguin suit and white gloves opened the door. Kimi stepped out and straightened his jacket; he smiled for the mandatory ‘arrival’ photograph with Heikki, and headed for the holly festooned entrance.

‘Free bar?’ Heikki asked, hovering a hand over the pocket his wallet lay in.

Kimi’s eyes flashed with the memory of Eric’s email. ‘All night.’ He replied.

He didn’t bother to let Heikki in on the fact that Eric had threatened him with a week of extra testing if he even thought about challenging anyone to a drinking competition. He wasn’t prepared to push it, as he’d already entered a snowmobile competition the week before they were due to fly to Jerez.

He ordered two bottles of lager and handed one to Heikki, reminding him that there was a long night ahead, and crossed the room to begin what would be hours of endless small talk.

Romain was sitting with his engineer and a couple of the administrative staff and greeted the two Finns with his usual irrepressible exuberance. From the look of his flushed cheeks and sparkly eyes Kimi guessed that his team-mate had been at the champagne already. He shook the hand he offered warily, in case Romain tried to give him a hug.

‘Congratulations on the contract.’ Heikki said quietly, patting Romain on the shoulder.

Kimi noted the pain in Heikki’s voice, but not a hint of bitterness. There were many, himself included, who speculated on all Finnish line up at Enstone next season, given Romain’s 2012 misdemeanours, but they’d given the Swiss a second chance. Kimi felt his chest burn with pride for the way Heikki was carrying himself despite the grief he must be feeling.

They chatted until the call came for them to take their seats for dinner, Kimi slotted in between Heikki and Jerome and waited patiently for his food to arrive.

He’d just finished his pâté when he felt his pocket vibrate. He pulled the phone from his suit trousers.

_Where are you?_

Kimi’s eyes rolled. Why was Fernando asking him this question when he had already told him where he would be tonight? He flicked his thumbs across the keypad.

_You know where I am. Lotus party. Piss off._

He replaced the phone and accepted the large turkey dinner which had appeared to his left.

Just before the speeches began the phone sprang to life again.

_Gatecrash?_

Kimi drummed his fingers on the black and gold table cloth.

_No. Have used my plus one._

The reply was instantaneous.

_Pussy._

Kimi turned his phone off and stuffed it back into his pocket. When Eric had finished droning on he got to his feet and headed across to the bar to investigate their vodka supply. He was pleasantly surprised to hear that the venue stocked at least seven kinds of flavoured vodkas as well as three very good quality plain varieties. He paused to decide, grinned evilly, and asked for eight of all seven and a plain to be brought to his table.

He returned to the table, only to find that his seat had been stolen by Jerome who was now deep in conversation with Heikki. Kimi wasn’t even sure they’d been introduced but he cursed the test driver for pushing him into a seat next to Romain, who was now very tipsy, and the vodkas were coming.

‘Kimi!’ The younger man squealed, and was clearly ecstatic that the Finn had chosen to grace him with his presence.

‘Hi Ro.’ Kimi replied miserably, sitting down and pointing to the centre of the table when the waitresses arrived with trays.

He reached over and distributed the little shot glasses until everyone had eight in front of them; plain, lemon, raspberry, blackcurrant, cherry, apple, chilli and, oddly, mince pie.

Kimi held his lemon shot aloft and the table fell silent around him.

‘To 2012.’ He said, knocking down the spirit.

His companions cheered and soon began yelling their own toasts.

‘To Lotus!’ A man from aerodynamics yelled.

‘To the E20!’ Another bellowed.

By now a lot of the other tables were getting involved, huge cheers and rounds of applause following the shouts. Romain got to his unsteady feet, with his glass held high. Kimi could tell by the slight burgundy tinge of the vodka that his team-mate was about to sink the chilli flavour and backed his chair up a little, in case he fell over.

‘To Kimi Raikkonen!’ Romain shouted, throwing the vodka down his neck and dissolving into a coughing fit immediately.

Kimi blushed furiously as the room erupted. He didn’t even think what he’d done was even that special. One win? It was barely worth celebrating, since he viewed it as an underachievement. But it had been a very long time for all the people at Lotus, and they’d clearly needed that win. He stood and bowed graciously, toasting them with his last shot, also chilli, and swallowed it down without batting an eyelid.

Romain had stopped coughing, but was now sipping eagerly from another champagne flute, presumably to calm his burning throat. Kimi felt like he’d been a little harsh, but was quite glad it had shut Romain up for a bit.

He turned back towards Jerome, hopeful of finding a decent conversation there, but discovered he was completely barred from the discussion. Both drivers were leaning in, speaking softly, and Kimi blinked in amazement when he heard ‘that’ laugh from Heikki. It had been a very long time since he’d heard it.

*****

_A very long time ago, two Finns were travelling together on a train to Helsinki, after a season which had seen Kimi crowned as World Champion. Heikki and Kimi often travelled together and many people presumed their relationship strayed past the normal boundaries for racing drivers. But it was simply the way they complimented each others personalities which drew them together; Heikki was the ice to Kimi’s fire, Kimi was the caution to Heikki’s impetuousness._

_They had just learned that McLaren had made an offer to Heikki for 2008, and that it had been accepted. Heikki had ordered champagne to their private carriage to celebrate and Kimi had spiked it with the vodka from his hip flask. They were so comfortable together that when Heikki collapsed on the floor, dragging Kimi down with him when his hands came to the rescue, the drunken fumble seemed almost inevitable. Heikki had murmured such filth down Kimi’s ears that it had taken a lot of self restraint not to damage him, and when he laughed Kimi thought he might shoot his load right into his jeans. After they had fucked they sat for a long time, still drinking the laced champagne and talking as though nothing had happened. Kimi felt his most relaxed around Heikki, but they agreed to never take things any further, because sex is the best way to spoil a good friendship._

*****

Kimi glanced around the ballroom; he was very impressed with the stops the team bosses had pulled out. Everywhere he looked there was a smiling face, or people dancing, embracing, or just being generally merry. He suddenly thought of his phone and wondered how many messages Fernando had left him in the couple of hours he’d left him to his own devices. Being ignored wasn’t something the Spaniard was accustomed to, and judging by the messages had taken the Finn’s silence quite badly. A total of nineteen texts awaited Kimi and he flicked through them, his lips forming a smirk as they ranged from precious _‘please don’t ignore me’_ s to full scale abusive tantrums _‘How dare you, fuck you Kimi!’_

He grinned and deleted them all, then turned the phone back off and settled back into his seat. He sipped his beer slowly, noting that a pale hand was now resting on Jerome’s thigh, which most definitely belonged to Heikki.

It was now quite obvious to Kimi that they would get along well, as it was certain that Jerome would be able to relate to Heikki’s woes about losing a seat. Sure, the Frenchman hadn’t scaled the same heights, but at least he could understand what Heikki was going through much more than Kimi could ever hope to. He’d only ever walked away from Formula One, never been dumped out of it ignominiously. Lotus had all but begged him out of retirement and the need to race at the highest level had appealed to him again, it was the right time.

Kimi watched the dance-floor as it filled with more and more of his colleagues. He could see Mark, his race engineer, dancing with a girl from the accounts department, who he vaguely remembered was named Emily. A crowd of mechanics were whooping and whistling at a table surrounded by PR girls who eyed them disdainfully, then turned to giggle hopelessly.

He chuckled. If he’d felt like it he could have walked over there and had his pick of them. Just by clicking his fingers they would have followed him to his room and pleased him. As the star driver he could pick and choose, even the ones with boyfriends and husbands, much to the disgust of the board of directors. Kimi had approached his string of meaningless flings with the opinion that what they didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them, and besides, if they stopped throwing themselves at his feet he’d more than likely stop picking them up.

As if to illustrate this fact, Abbey from marketing wandered past the table, fluttering her long fake eyelashes in his direction. She winked at him and carried on walking, checking a few steps later that Kimi was still watching, which he was. He was just about to get to his feet and follow her when a waiter tapped him on the shoulder, telling him that there was a gentleman in the foyer asking for him whose name wasn’t on the guest list.

Kimi sighed and took one last glance at Abbey in her backless dress, who was now heading to the directors table, and headed out behind the waiter.

Fernando was drunk. This became apparent to Kimi the second he arrived in the tiled hall and saw him half slumped against an antique dresser. Kimi thanked the waiter for informing him, and ushered him back into the ballroom.

‘What the fuck are you doing here?’ Kimi snapped.

Fernando looked hurt and pouted beneath his moustache. ‘I missed you.’

Kimi breathed loudly through his nose. ‘It’s one night; you knew I was bringing Heikki. What’s wrong with you?’

‘Are you fucking him?’

‘What?!’

The Spaniard’s lip curled maliciously. ‘Are you fucking Heikki?’

Kimi balled his fists, glaring at Fernando. ‘No, not recently.’ He said icily.

Fernando started laughing, a deep throaty laugh which culminated in a growl. He had clearly dressed to impress at some point earlier in the evening, but his tie was now askew and two buttons were missing from his shirt. Kimi also noted that his hair was a mess, but that didn’t really count as a failing.

‘Can I not come in then? To your private party, with you and Heikki?’ Fernando slurred.

Kimi tapped his foot against the floor, making a sharp sound that echoed from the highly polished surfaces around them. He’d gone from being calm and happy, and slightly frisky thanks to Abbey, to being completely incandescent with rage, thanks to the mess of a Ferrari driver he was now faced with.

‘Fine! Come in then. Come and see what we’re up to, me and Heikki.’

Fernando blinked, and Kimi was sure he hadn’t really expected to be invited in. Maybe he’d just turned up for an argument and there was a car outside waiting to take him back to wherever he’d come from. Kimi knew he’d been planning to spend Christmas in London this year, but it was a long drive back there at this time of night.

‘Hello? Fernando? Can we get going please?’ Kimi asked, reaching forward and grasping the Spaniard by his suit lapel and propelling him towards the door. Just before they passed into the ballroom Kimi straightened the other man’s tie.

Heikki saw them first, surfacing from his conversation with Jerome long enough for his mouth to drop open with surprise. Kimi dropped Fernando into the seat beside Romain and pulled a chair across from another table.

‘H-Hi Fernando.’ Heikki said nervously, peering over Jerome’s shoulder.

Fernando sniffed in reply, taking a champagne flute from Romain’s hand and downing the contents.

Kimi and Heikki’s eyes met, the latter’s panic ridden. His mouth moved, with no sound, Kimi lip read the words _‘what’s he doing here?’_ and shrugged back.

Fernando was not a people person and definitely not the life and soul of a Christmas party. Jerome and Heikki shuffled away to the bar and Kimi wondered if that would be the last he saw of them that evening. Romain was still trying to work out where his drink had gone and was scanning the carpet, as though he’d dropped the glass. Kimi picked another flute from the table and handed it to his team-mate. Romain smiled broadly, and promptly dropped the glass on the carpet.

‘Why did they resign you?’ Fernando asked.

Romain looked like he’d been kicked. Kimi hauled Fernando out of his seat and steered him towards a more secluded corner where he couldn’t offend anyone.

‘Stop giving people shit. You’re in no condition to judge others!’ Kimi snapped.

Fernando looked sour and folded his arms across his chest. ‘Well invite me to your little parties in future and I won’t have to feel like you don’t give a crap.’

Kimi mirrored the motion and for a moment they stood in stony silence in the shadow of a marble pillar. Kimi watched the room again, feeling completely sober now he envied the people who looked like they were enjoying themselves, not having to babysit a drunken, bad tempered, Spanish baggage. From further down the wall, in the darkness of another pillar’s shadow, he could just make out the silhouettes of Jerome and Heikki, whose lips had come together in a flurry of groping hands and pulled clothing. A pang of jealousy fluttered within Kimi’s chest, not that he was interested in either of them, just the carefree nature of it all. It was exciting when you met someone, when you got to taste them for the first time. Not when they were turning your head inside out and acting like a child.

‘Hey!’

Fernando shoved Kimi so hard he almost toppled over, he spun round and pinned the Spaniard to the wall. Enough was enough, and if it meant telling Fernando that they were history then so be it, there were plenty of pretty girls there to satisfy his needs.

‘I’m going to get you a car to take you home.’ He said, turning to walk away.

Fernando grabbed his arm. ‘Don’t talk crap Kimi, you’re not sending me anywhere!’ He scoffed.

Kimi threw the hand off him, fixing Fernando with a very steely glare.  ‘There’s no point to you being here if nobody wants you.’

The Ferrari driver’s face dropped, so at least he heard Kimi right. ‘What do you mean _nobody_?’ He asked nervously.

‘Exactly what I said.’ Kimi said. ‘I’ll get you that car.’

Kimi felt like the walk across the ballroom was miles; he picked his way around the tables ignoring the people sitting at them. Some turned to speak to him, but he didn’t hear them, he just kept walking. At some point Fernando must have started chasing after him, because the sound of a table shedding its glasses and a chair falling over reached his ears, people were shouting.

Just what he needed; a scene.

He was halfway across the foyer when Fernando caught him. Dragging him to a standstill and turning him round to face him. People were hanging around by the entrance, perched on the furniture chatting or sitting on the steps smoking. Almost all of them turned to see what the problem was when Kimi stormed through.

‘Please don’t send me home.’ Fernando whispered, looking at his shoes.

Kimi clenched his teeth, he hated when people stared and right now he was the very centre of attention. He pulled Fernando to the side of the room, and pointed his finger at his nose. ‘Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t?’

Fernando floundered for a moment, like he was struggling with a decision inside his head. Kimi tapped his foot again; he was doing that a lot recently, and waited for the response.

‘Because I don’t want to be where you aren’t.’ The Spaniard hissed back. ‘Do you think I don’t know what happens at Enstone? Do you think I’m that stupid? Or do you just not give a shit mister high and mighty? You’re so far up there on that pedestal that you think it’s okay to fuck with people’s emotions?’

Kimi gaped at him. It wouldn’t be a good time to tell Fernando that not once had he even considered his feelings, because not once had he shown Kimi that he had any. He’d presumed that they were of the same opinion, it was fun but it didn’t mean anything to either of them.

‘ _Please_ don’t send me home.’ Fernando pleaded. ‘Let’s just get a drink, let’s talk. We’ve never talk.’

Kimi nodded, it was true, because they never talked. They spent hours together in hotel rooms, knocking seven shades of shit out of each other while they fought over who took the victory of fucking the other, but never once had they talked, even as friends.

They walked back into the ballroom side by side, a couple of the party-goers still watching them suspiciously. Kimi ordered two beers and two whiskey chasers, he hated the stuff but vodka barely touched him these days and he needed a kick right now. He handed Fernando his drinks and they found a table where nobody was sitting.

‘Am I that bad?’ Kimi asked sadly.

Fernando was sitting with his elbows on his knees, twirling the bottle between his fingers. He looked up and Kimi and smiled, his eyes sparkled in the party lights; Kimi always thought he had great eyes. ‘No, but you’re not exactly accessible are you?’

‘I’m Finnish.’ He said, as though that was explanation enough.

Fernando let out a low chuckle. ‘Well try to remember I’m Spanish, so there’s a recipe for disaster.’

‘We’ll have to see about that.’ Kimi said, clinking Fernando’s bottle with his. He moved his chair a little closer and rest his knee against the Spaniard’s thigh. ‘Drink your whiskey.’ He said with a smile.

They sat together saying nothing, but for the first time enjoying each other’s company.

After a while Fernando nudged Kimi with his elbow and pointed at the dance-floor. ‘What exactly is going on there?’ He asked.

What Kimi saw under the lights nearly brought his turkey dinner back up again. Eric was dancing with his shirt open, bright lights reflecting off his wonky glasses, holding onto the hips of the employee who was grinding against him. The employee in question, who was almost collapsing with drunkenness, was Romain.

‘I guess that clears up the mystery about that contract extension.’ Fernando mused, taking the last sip of his whiskey.

The party went on and slowly the crowds thinned, coaches arrived to take members of the team back to Oxford, or to nearby hotels. Only the drivers and bosses were staying on the estate, and when Kimi and Fernando finally had enough of watching Romain gyrate they ordered a tray of drinks and Kimi led the way upstairs.

‘I didn’t bring anything with me.’ Fernando muttered.

Kimi didn’t reply and smirked as he unlocked the door with the brass key he’d been given by the doorman. His belongings had been taken up and when he opened the door he found a fire had already been started in the grate. To Kimi’s delight the bed was an enormous oak structure, with ornate posts reaching high into a thick velvet canopy. He and Fernando stood side by side, staring up at it in wonder. The room was warm and cosy, and completely devoid of any kind of technology. No television or computer, not even any air conditioning or a radio, infact the only recent article was a telephone, which Fernando said looked like it was made of vulcanite, but Kimi had no idea.

‘Take your shirt off.’ Kimi said.

Fernando coughed a laugh. ‘You heard me right? I don’t have anything to change into.’

‘I heard you just fine; now take off your shirt.’ He ordered again.

Fernando’s fingers danced over the buttons, revealing a smooth tanned torso, Kimi’s mouth watered at the sight and when the crisp white cotton fell from the other mans shoulders he felt he might need to sit on his hands to stop himself touching too soon. The firelight flickered across Fernando’s skin, casting shadows on his abdomen and highlighting the sharp contours of his hips. He looked down at Kimi and smiled, looking both sinister and enticing simultaneously, he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his trousers and pushed them down until the rough tangle of dark hairs were just visible.

Kimi loosened his belt and pushed his hand into his boxers, idly teasing the skin around his balls. Fernando frowned, and as though it had turned into a competition of wills, copied the action.

Kimi groaned, trying to avoid grabbing himself and blasting into his pants at the sight of Fernando who was now stroking himself in front of him. When the Spaniard’s head lolled back Kimi decided he’d had enough, got to his feet and pulled Fernando to him by the hips, brushing his nose against his cheek but pulling back at the first attempt he made to lock lips. Fernando’s eyes narrowed and Kimi smiled, plunging his tongue into the Ferrari driver’s mouth without another hesitation. Fernando fought back, as he always did, teeth clashing, lips pressed to bruising point, clawing his short nails down the length of Kimi’s back beneath his shirt as he tried to wrestle the advantage back from him.

Kimi’s hands found hair, balling it into his fist and wrenching Fernando’s head back, opening up the expanse of neck to him. He teased with his tongue, biting and sucking until angry red marks overwhelmed the perfect skin. Kimi breathed hard feeling Fernando shiver, he traced a line with his tongue along his jaw and up to his ear lobe, snapping his teeth shut. Fernando gasped and Kimi felt his hardness against his hip, it made his spine tingle. He couldn’t wait to slide inside him, into the familiar tightness of Fernando’s perfect, peachy behind. He found his lips again, exploring his mouth hungrily and biting down on his lip so hard he tasted blood.

‘On your knees.’ Kimi instructed.

Fernando looked at him curiously, like he didn’t understand the question. Kimi pointed his index finger squarely into the centre of the Spaniard’s chest, and then pointed firmly at the carpet.

‘Why does it have to be me?’ Fernando asked.

Kimi smiled. ‘Because you behaved badly earlier, and it’ll show me you’re sorry.’

Fernando went quiet and slowly sank to his knees; Kimi leaned back against the oak post of the bed, sighing as Fernando released him from the confines of his boxers and took him into the hot wetness beyond his lips. He couldn’t help rocking his hips, desperate for that occasional moment when he tapped the back of Fernando’s throat. It made him gag, but he continued relentlessly, lapping his tongue around the shaft and swirling over the head, making Kimi squirm and grip the smooth wood behind him.

Kimi was close, but he wouldn’t come, not yet. He wouldn’t give Fernando the satisfaction of fucking him, that pleasure was his. He was going to teach him a lesson for what he did to him.

‘That’ll do.’ Kimi said, gently pushing Fernando away from his groin and pulling his shirt over his head without undoing the buttons.

The Spaniard whined and Kimi knew that he’d intended to finish this on his terms. Kimi pushed down his trousers and boxers, hooking off his socks with his fingers and stood naked in the firelight waiting for Fernando to get into position. He didn’t feel exposed, he felt powerful and knew when Fernando’s eyes flashed over his milky skin, his tongue wetting his lips, that he knew better than to deny him.

Kimi rolled his foreskin between his fingers, he was painfully hard, and when Fernando slid his trousers off his hips he leaked out a little. It would help; he hadn’t brought any lube with him tonight, as he usually got the girls wet enough to not need to bother. He followed Fernando onto the bed, the silk of the bedspread felt cool beneath his knees, and scratched his back from the nape of his neck down to the crack of his ass. The spine reacted with an impressive arch and Kimi trailed his fingers down to Fernando’s entrance which tensed at the touch.

Kimi reached round, stroking the weeping cock below and swirling the sensitive tip to moisten the fingers he would use to stretch Fernando ready for him. Fernando moaned, and Kimi pushed into him firmly, but not as roughly as he usually would. Since he knew Fernando was sorry, he might go a little easier on him tonight, it wasn’t everyday another driver bared his soul for another to see. He twisted and flexed the fingers, tapping on the sensitive place inside and making the man beneath him gasp.

‘Please?’ Fernando whispered.

Kimi’s head span and he nearly came, never before had Fernando asked for his cock. He fought against the sensation, rubbing his eyes with his free hand and focussing on what he needed to do. He gently removed the fingers, catching sight of the open hole ready for him, and pushed slowly inside. Fernando’s breath hitched and Kimi could feel the tremble of his muscles as he accepted him. He felt better than ever before, maybe because it was the first time he’d asked to be fucked, or maybe because he felt like he’d finally got inside his head. He rolled his hips and bit his lip as the delicious friction pulled him closer to the edge. Fernando pushed back onto him wantonly, all bravado cast aside in a desperate need for pleasure, and when Kimi took hold of his cock and squeezed he needed no more, exploding over his own hands as they clutched the sheets.

Kimi clasped the Spaniard’s shoulders with both hands, driving in as deep as he could, feeling the wonderful heat fill his balls and spread out to his stomach. Again he pounded into Fernando, until his arms and legs tingled; every muscle feeling like it was on fire.

‘Naida…’ Kimi muttered, knowing the orgasm was imminent. ‘Paska Fernando!’

He growled as he came, resting on Fernando’s sweat soaked back until his mind unfogged enough to realise both of them had collapsed. They lay still for a long time, Kimi feeling an unfamiliar feeling, a bit like happiness, because of the closeness he was experiencing with another human being. Fernando didn’t ask him to get up, and the silence was as comfortable as it had ever been with Heikki.

Soon they had to move, since the afterglow had made Kimi sleepy and he didn’t want to snore down Fernando’s ear all night. They crawled naked beneath the sheets and watched the orange embers in the fire.

A low thudding caught both of their attentions and the two drivers looked at each other quizzically, realising that the sound was coming from the room next-door. They held their breath and listened.

_‘Oui Romain, tu es  magnifique!’_

_‘Mon dieu Eric, c’est bien, c’est tres, tres bien!’_

Kimi’s eyes widened and Fernando started to laugh, eventually doubling over. Kimi shoved him playfully.

‘Shut up! I have to work with those bastards!’ He hissed, eventually cracking up too.

When they fell asleep they curled together instinctively, Kimi’s arms around Fernando, with his nose nuzzled against this damaged neck.

Maybe it would be a happy Christmas at last.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the end of the 2012 season, using the Lotus F1 Team twitter competition to design their corporate Christmas card's trend tag #EnstoneChristmas as inspiration.


End file.
